


Paintings

by Estel9981



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel9981/pseuds/Estel9981





	Paintings

【1】  
Draco did not remember how the painting appeared on the wall of Manor.  
It might given by one of Lucius’s aristocratic friends. Or Narcissus found it charming and took it from some gallery. The light yellow canvas proves its old age. Draco glanced at the painting and could not move his sight from it.  
“I thought you would never pay attention to such things.” Narcissus said this to him.  
She was right. Draco had little interest in painting. The noble were always fond of demanding their children to present their skills in front of their peers. Blaise was forced to play the piano while Pansy was assigned to draw. Not that they accepted the order willingly. They were merely too young to refuse their parents. Parents were talented in persuading their children into doing something elegant yet boring.  
A child like Draco could be very canny, though. He made use of Narcissus’s spoiling love, begging her to spare him. As he claimed, those keys dazzled him and the canvas brought him headache. He succeeded in shunning the exhausting practice.

He realized he was on the lounge, as if he were still the kid waiting for the arrival of guests. The familiar scene did remind him of the old days.  
Narcissus would wait at the porch with elves squatting by her right ankle. They were curious and shy to keep those dressy gentlemen and ladies company. Their worry was unnecessary, for guests usually ignored them unless there was a need of a refill of tea. Draco was always the focus of the party. Someone would caress his hair or flattered his appearance and air. Draco listened to them without hearing anything. Following the command of Narcissus, he took out nut chocolates to treat them.

The water was boiling with a string of bubbles. It would be poured into a porcelain teacup, turning the leaves from green to black. The guests would snatch the cup with delicate fingers and sipping the tea with extreme etiquette. Or they picked up a butter cookie and scrutinized at it as if appreciating a piece of priceless jewelry. Finally they decided to give a careful bite, leaving a nearly imperceptible notch whose size was smaller than the one insect would leave on a rose petal.

Now those guests have lost their interest in calling on the Malfoys. The absence of their visiting stripped the vigor out of the Manor. The crystal lamp has been covered by dirt. The oven has not been used to bake cakes for a while. Paintings on the corridor witnessed the prosperity of the Manor, as well as its downfall, which gave Draco an uncomfortable feeling.

He felt that he was not watching the painting but being watched.

 

【2】

Harry forgot how the painting was hung on the wall of Auror office.

After the final war, his followers sent him a mountain of gifts. He carefully placed those thick books on the shelves. Books from Hermione were absolutely worth a well storing. Tulips sent by Ron have been put on his desk. As for those trophies, Harry locked them into the cabinet.

Though he always presented a positive image to the public, Harry was not that optimistic about life. People who experienced war had a clear clue that hope was a luxury they cannot afford. Nevertheless, the figure of Saint has been shaped and the Savior was deemed to live for the wizard world. Harry no longer complained about this. He has wore the mask for a long time and gradually learnt how to control his temper and gave people what they intended to see in him.

He was sitting on the chair, leafing through a pile of documents and added some notes to the application for crucial actions. This was an endless work. Harry spun the pen, leaving ink over the snow-white paper. His mind drifted away as the scattering dots. He would wonder whether Snape had been suffered from dealing with the paper work. Sometimes he would recall the times when he borrowed notes from Hermione or the day when he first floated a quill pen. Those memories appeared to be stored in a secret corner of his brain. Very seldom would occur to him.

He had an impulse to get out of the house, to fly in the sky, to embrace the sunlight. Yet whenever he opened the door, a swamp of people would push forward and cornered him back. Harry realized he would never been remembered as a talented Quidditch player. The halo of Savior was simply too shiny. Harry could not demand people to have a close look at his other sides. Therefore he went back to his office again, doing what people asked him to do.

He helped people solve numerous affairs. Instead leaving him alone once the mission was completed, people preferred to stay for a while until their curiosity abated. Usually they would give a comment on the arrangement of the objects. One day someone stood in front of the wall and chose the painting to appreciate.  
“What a wonderful party.” She claimed.  
It was at that moment Harry noticed the painting for the first time. He observed the painting for minutes. He intended to say something to refute back the lady but eventually utter nothing.

【3】

Draco held a firm belief that there was a subtle relationship between Harry Potter and him. It resembled the connection between dream and reality. Lacking of each, the world would be abnormal.

Draco was still sitting on the sofa, watching the Savior in the painting. Harry Potter wore messy hair. One of his collars was unfolded. It seemed that Potter’s high position failed to influence his indiscrimination to dress. Potter was reading a pile of paper. His desk looked acceptably neat, except for a flowerpot was laid on the corner of the desk. Draco could not help worrying some careless person would knock it down and murdered the tulips.

There was a book shelve in the office. Books on the first and second layers were helplessly messy yet those on the top layer were arranged in order. Draco supposed those lucky books were given by Granger and could not help but smile for this guess. He cocked his head, trying to see what Potter was writing from another angle. Yet the painting failed his wish. The paper on which Potter wrote was covered by his right hand, making it impossible for Draco to see.

He had no choice but to shift his attention back on the writer. Potter was wearing the ugly glasses. It was such a pity. Draco had imaged Potter would look much better if the latter took off his glasses yet the painter seemed to disagree. Or maybe he or she had the same taste like Draco, the only reason why the painter did not order Potter to give up his glasses was because the object has been recognized as an eye-catching feature of the Savior. Potter with his famous scar and a pair of round glasses, that’s what people wanted to see. Behind the glasses, as Draco noticed, Potter had no expression on his face. Was he contemplating? Or was his mind wandering? Such expression was familiar to Draco, for Potter often did put it on in Snape’s class. It was intriguing that Potter could not hold it for a long time, for the blast of crucible and the roar of Snape would shatter his numb face expression.

The paper crane he folded once caught Potter’s attention. Or was it the funny picture he drew? He smiled and looked over Potter’s shoulder. There was a huge, half-open window. Draco saw the floating curtain and instantly understood it was a trick used by the painter. Whoever drew this painting has succeeded making watchers see the wind. Draco even felt the wind jumped out the painting and caressed his cheek. The painting dug the secrets up, exposing them to the sunlight.

Draco narrowed his eyes. The painting looked different to him. Potter along with his office was gone. Instead, a younger brunette was standing on the playground, ordering his broom to up. The motionless picture began to move. The broom jumped into Potter’s hand and sent him to the sky. Potter maintained the balance and gritted his teeth to chase someone waiting in the air.

Draco looked at that figure for a long time and finally remembered the bully snatching the ball was himself.

He was bathed in the shine from the painting, as well as braced by the odor of grass and soil.

【4】

It took a long time for Harry to realize the painting in his eyes was a different image from that in his guests. At the beginning, he had thought his visitors gave those comments on the painting to humiliate the descending Malfoys.  
Not until Hermione advised him to replace the luxuriant painting with a humble one, did Harry sense the strangeness. He tried again, looking at the painting and asked Hermione why used luxuriant to describe the painting.  
Hermione was bemused by his question. She replied with confusion.  
“Because this is the most luxuriant party I have ever saw.”  
Blinking several times, Harry scrutinized at the painting, only to see Malfoy seated on the sofa alone with his grey eyes looking straight forward, as if Malfoy was looking something on the wall of Manor.  
“Look at those fabulous dresses, the busy elves and the delicate dessert.”  
Hermione tried to point everything she saw to Harry, yet he could see nothing but a Malfoy sitting alone on the sofa.  
He simple could not see the party.

【5】

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome the gallery. Please follow me to this way. Here we are, the magical corridor. Attention! there were two face-to-face paintings on your both sides. As we can see, each of the painting is presented in the other painting. Dudes in the painting seem to look at the each other in the painting. Isn’t it interesting? They are created by the great modern artist Miss Pansy. I dare to say two guys in the painting would never know they are being appreciated as a painting. But … let me ask you a question, who can be sure that we are not living in a painting. Or maybe we are characters created by a writer?”


End file.
